Cows
by Whooligan
Summary: A small little thing on Face and his meeting Hannibal.


Note: Alright, I'm aware this isn't the best story ever. But it does happen to be three in the morning when I'm writing, and it happens to be the first fic I've ever even wrote. Please be gentle, I like to pretend I'm fragile. :)

Summary: A short story about Face meeting Hannibal, not really going to far into anything... But when you've gotta write, you've gotta write!

Pointless Disclaimer: I know, You all say "Hey, I know you don't own the A-Team, so get on with it!" Well, for your information, I do! I own every last piece, from Murdock's hat to BA's feathery earrings! AND YOU'LL NEVER TAKE THEM! *relaxes in straight jacket* Hehehe, alright, so maybe they were stolen away by those silly tv producers... But I coulda swore I had them first... in my head...  
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When the chips are down and you feel like you're at the bottom, the only way you can go is up. This is the philosophy I followed most of my life, and never thought to second guess it. Well, never until I got to 'Nam, that is. No, Vietnam was a different world, confusing and insane. It had different rules, and if you didn't learn them fast than the jungles soon claimed you. Everything I learned in my youth about killing being wrong was out the window. 'Thou shalt not kill' turned into 'kill or be killed'. Funny how a few bullets being shot in your direction can wake you up to reality.

After two months in country I had come to realize that life was a delicacy. It could be taken easiy, and was spared only if you slept with your eyes open. I never actually thought I'd make it out alive. I watched as my fellow soldiers died around me and started counting down the days. It wasn't like I had a death wish or anything. I was just...prepared. The military has a way of getting you prepared for death, training you to function properly in high stakes areas. Teaching you to kill instinctivly. I remember my first kill like it was yesterday, remembered seeing the eyes of the Vietcong. I expected fear, remorse, even humanity. All I saw was hatred.

Funny, I never really realized when I had started scamming. Even as a kid at the orphanage I had been conning people out of their possessions, and it was pretty second nature to me. I had easily made sure I was treated with respect by scamming things for the other soldiers, such as clean clothes and extra food. Eventually I started getting more exotic though, appearing in the mess hall with delicacies such as crab legs and vintage wines. Than there was the incident with the televisions...

Anyways, It wasn't long before I had started wiggling my way out of duty with a few well placed bribes. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I was lazy or afraid, I just was trying to raise my life expectancy. I think it took a slight toll, losing that action that I had become accustomed to. My scams became a bit more eccentric and unneeded, almost to the point that the commanding officers were getting fed up with me. I started using my talents for pointless pranks just to curve the boredom that came from sitting around camp all day. It was after one of these such pranks that I ran into Hannibal, quite litteraly.

I had actually managed to get two cows, side by side, into the general's office. I've never revealed how I managed that, but it was worth it to see them try and get them out. As soon as General Morrison realised what had happened they were after me. I only stuck around long enough to see his face; I know when I'm not wanted. I sped through the camp, my prolonged stay letting me get to know the back roads and paths. I was dissapointed to find out that they seemed to know them too. A few wrong turns proved I wasn't getting off easy, but I pushed on. Templeton Peck doesn't know the meaning of surrender, after all. But running out from behind the mess hall slammed me right into another soldier.

One look and I knew he was a colonal. My mouth had gone dry as I tried to work up an apology, and I stumbled several times before I managed a small 'sorry'. The officer's bright blue eyes twinkled as he looked me up and down, almost reminding me of the tales of Santa Clause. He even had the white hair, but the green army suit and hardened look threw the image out of my mind quickly. He frowned at me as the pursuers came up behind, and for a minute I figured my army life was over. Than, to my suprise, a devilish grin crossed his face.

"You Peck?" He asked me casually, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. I nodded in response, unable to speak. If he knew my name, he probably knew my reputation. A quick glance at the MPs behind me said that he was in control anyways right now, wich meant listen and wait for the needed oppertunity.

"I've heard alot about you," He continued, appearing oblivious to my prediciment. "And about your ability to make sure the men in this camp live better than half the generals in the war." He paused, puffing a few times on his cigar, apperently waiting for a response. When I offered none he continued anyways. "And apperently you have a special way with cows."

I couldn't help myself- I smirked. I only let the smile stay for a moment before I was impassive again, standing at attention in front of him. But he had caught my moment of weakness and his grin had widened even more. My heart beat quicker against my will, realizing he could use this against me.

His next words took me completly by suprise. "I think it's time you came and worked for me." I glanced at his eyes, trying to find the catch, but his face had gone completly serious. Disbelief ran through my mind as I tried to picture why this man could possibly want me, why he wasn't about to take me back to Morrison for a reprimend. Than that damn grin was back on his face as he watched my confusion. "The names John Smith, but most call me Hannibal. I run a Special forces A-Team over here, and we could use a good supply officer. Besides," He paused, the grin widening, "I thought the cow thing was pretty funny."

I knew my jaw had dropped, but I couldn't help it. Everyone had heard of Hannibal Smith and his A-Team. It had to be a trick, maybe Morrison getting back at me finally for all the crap I did to him. I watched as Hannibal started to walk again, moving towards Morrison's office. He waved away the MPs who had been hovering around us before turning back slightly and looking at me. "You coming?" he asked, still grinning around that cigar. I nodded dumbly as I moved into step behind him, lost in thought. The legendary A-Team, Hannibal Smith, asking me to join. I knew I was a little rusty from not having been on the outside for a while, but I had no doubt Hannibal would hone my skills until I was the best of the best, the special forces member that I knew I could be. 


End file.
